Tumble Creek

by Louise Forster

  Suddenly his hands were around her waist and she was up and flying onto the bed. He’d pulled back the covers—when he’d managed that she had no idea—and now she was on her back and Brock was covering her with his powerful body, and yes, his weight, and his warm skin on hers—heaven! Using his knees he spread her legs wide and the tip of his shaft nudged her entrance, then little by little he eased himself inside.

  ‘Oh my God.’ She arched her back and neck, thrusting her breasts up.

  ‘Babe, wet, silk, tight, wrapped around me. Fuck that feels good.’ His hands were on the mattress on either side of her, taking his weight off her body now, shoulders, biceps and forearm muscles bulging; she ran her hands up, fingers rippling over his skin, loving the feel of him, the power of him.

  He kissed along her jaw and, voice rough, he whispered, ‘Let me see your beautiful eyes. I want to see how turned on you are.’

  She did as he asked, and all that she gave him reflected in his face, his eyes. Sofie was sure she interpreted Brock’s expression correctly. His open, honest face showed that what he was experiencing, with her, was blowing his mind.

  ‘Fuck, you’re amazing, giving me everything.’ He lowered his mouth to her lips, his tongue toying with hers.

  Her legs went around his back, digging her heels into his butt, pulling him inside her. ‘Stop playing and give me fast, give more.’ Brock upped the pace. ‘Oh yes … yes.’ Sofie bucked her hips to meet his rhythm.

  His hand slid in between them straight to her sex. He pulled his shaft out to the tip and his fingers went in, making them wet, he brought them out to slip around her inner folds and clit. Sofie cried out her pleasure and Brock drove deep inside her. Staying there he rotated his hips, again and again, relentlessly driving her to the edge. His mouth went to a nipple, and he sucked, nipped and sucked again, all the while driving in deeper, fingers swirling over her clit.

  ‘Come for me, Babe. I want to feel you clutch my cock.’ His head went to her neck. ‘Come for me,’ he softly growled in her ear, adding goosebumps to all the delicious sensations, making her body sing.

  Sofie moaned with every outward breath, coming faster now as she headed towards another sensational orgasm. ‘I’m … I’m there. Brock … Brock!’ Her breath shallow as the tingling, beautiful waves washed through her, making her body convulse around his shaft. Brock slammed in deep and stayed planted. Grunting, his mouth came down on hers. Claiming. Masculine. Wild.

  Slowly, their panting eased. Hands sliding her hair back, Brock whispered against her mouth, ‘You okay?’

  ‘Oh, I may never walk again, but hey—’

  ‘Shit, did I hurt you?’ Brock cut her off. ‘I was so careful. Let me have a look.’ He lifted the cover and started to move down.

  Sofie grabbed his hair, stopping him. ‘Absolutely not, you stay right where you are. I’m fine. It’s just that I can’t remember the last time I did this.’ She giggled. ‘Isn’t that awful? Or maybe not.’ Moisture gathered in her eyes. ‘I like it that you’re the first since I can’t remember when.’

  ‘Babe, wouldn’t have wanted you to miss out, but I’m glad I’m the first in your can’t-remember-when.’ Amused, and fighting a grin, he very softly kissed her eyelids.

  ‘What’s that look for and what’s so funny that you’re ready to burst out laughing? Which, I might add, I enjoy seeing. Don’t hold back.’

  ‘Okay, you haven’t gone without. There’s that little matter of a vib—’

  Sofie covered his mouth again. ‘Sh-sh-sh-sh, walls have ears.’

  ‘Babe …’ Voice muffled behind her hand, he pulled himself under control. Sofie felt his mouth ease into a smile against her palm, then fingers clasped around her wrist, he gently moved her hand away, and he rumbled, ‘I would love to help you play with your toy.’ Grinning, he bent down and kissed her nipple then sucked it hard.

  ‘Ooh, that just went straight to my …’

  ‘Yeah, I know where that went.’ The joy on his face couldn’t be missed. ‘Next time.’ And keeping them connected, Brock relaxed his arms and rolled onto his back so that Sofie was on top. She lay her head on his chest and listened to the steady drumming of his heart, while hers was still galloping along.

  ‘Brock, you’re stuck with me, I’m not moving,’ Sofie murmured against his skin.

  He chuckled and her head bounced on his chest. She smiled and his hand came down to stroke her cheek.

  Without warning, Brock pulled out, wrapped his arms around her back and under her knees, then he swung his legs over the side and carried her to the bathroom.

  ‘What’re you doing?’ Sofie asked.

  ‘Cleaning up, Babe.’

  Soft mouth on hers, Brock used a warm flannel to wash between her legs. Overwhelmed with his sweet caresses, Sofie relaxed and went with his adoring care of her. Then he patted her dry and carried her back to his bed, arranging himself so that he had Sofie tucked into his side, her head on his bicep.

  ‘Are we right now?’ she whispered, feeling bewildered yet at the same time loved, cared for.

  ‘Yep.’ His hand stroked her hair, drawing it back, massaging her scalp … heaven. ‘Night, Babe.’

  ‘Hmm … love,’ Sofie murmured. His fingers flexed, but by then her body had grown heavy.

  ***

  Someone was fiddling with the front door lock. Groggily, Sofie raised herself up on her elbows. Now voices were muttering out on the porch. Oh crap.

  In a panic, she turned to face Brock and shook him.

  He grinned and swung an arm around her waist, drawing her in. ‘What’s up?’ he asked with a smile, his baritone voice husky with sleep. His warm, hard body pressed into hers, sent a quiver through her. Brock’s arms flexed in response and his smile turned into a chuckle. God, there was nothing she wanted more than to snuggle up and spend her Saturday morning in bed with him.

  She curled her hand around his jaw. ‘Brock, someone’s trying to get into your house!’ she whispered as loud as she dared.

  In a blink, and stark naked, he was up and at the bedroom door, looking down the hall and listening. Drawn curtains meant the room was semi-dark, yet she didn’t miss seeing the marks on his back. Oh my God! How could anyone miss what was clearly severe scarring on his back? Sofie’s blood drained from her face, and her hands began to tremble. Why hadn’t she felt any of the scars during their mind-blowing sex last night?

  Hands on either side of the doorway, Brock paused. Brow furrowed, he turned his head and his dark eyes sent her a warning glance. Apprehension shivered through her, and then he was gone. Oh bugger, did he worry about her seeing them? When he strode back in almost immediately, she tried to clear her face, to stop herself from revealing outrage, compassion, and the look of holy-crap-what-happened-to-you.

  ‘Babe, throw something on, my parents are here,’ he whispered, back to his normal self. Then smiling down at her, he shoved his long legs into a pair of jeans, going commando. And despite the intrusion, and the scars she’d seen, his morning’s bulging package sent sweet tingles straight between her thighs. What was wrong with her, how could she be thinking about his penis and how well he used it? She thought, woman, get a grip. He pulled the zipper up, thankfully without injury, then shrugged on his long-sleeved T-shirt. Sofie watched in a trance, loving the way his muscles bunched and extended as he shoved his arms into the sleeves, loving the masculine way he moved during all this dressing business. Then Brock was on the bed, hauling her out. He set her on her feet, and kissed her forehead. ‘I think Dad’s using delaying tactics on Mum, but it can’t last.’ He gathered her clothes and pushed them into her arms, kissed her briefly, turned her around, and gently guided her out the door, down the hall and into the bathroom. ‘Shower, do your thing, get dressed and come say hello, yeah?’

  ‘Uh-huh.’ Despite her worries, Sofie managed to nod.

  Brock’s hand curled around her neck and then up to span the back of her head; fingers pressing in he held her still, then mouth on hers he gave her
a warm, bone-melting kiss. He pulled back and, head to one side, he whispered, ‘Sorry, Babe, you have no idea how much my body aches to take you in the shower, have fun with you, but I can hear panic setting in on the other side of the door.’

  ‘Take me?’ Sofie asked; licking her lips, she couldn’t stop the little squirm she did with her hips and thighs.

  She loved it when he gave her that soft look, hot as all get-out. It shouldn’t be, but to Sofie it was extra special coming from a big man like Brock, and even more special when the situation made him stumble over his words.

  ‘Christ … you and I can’t … but soon, yeah … real soon.’ Resting his forehead on hers, he sighed, ‘You can bank on it.’

  ‘Yeah?’ She nodded then shook her head to clear the images of her and Brock getting naked and wet. She made a mental note to examine every inch of him at the first opportunity, especially his back. ‘Really, it’s okay. Go, open the door, and can I have a coffee please?’

  And a shot of brandy would be good.

  ‘Yeah, my girl can have coffee.’ He grinned, pressed his soft mouth on hers, but didn’t linger, then he closed the door. Still coming to terms with all that was happening, she waited, rooted to the floor, as Brock’s bare feet thundered down the hall. The front door opened and there was the sound of happy voices. She held her breath as the chatter moved past the bathroom and into the kitchen.

  Sofie finally got her feet to move and hurried through the business of showering and drying herself. She gathered her clothes and … ‘Shit!’ she whispered. She couldn’t very well wear her birthday dress and fuck-me shoes. She edged the bathroom door open, peeked out and heard the murmur of voices coming from the kitchen. The coast was clear; Sofie hurried out and tiptoed along the hall to her room. Throwing her clothes on a chair, she rummaged through her bag of stuff, found her black winter leggings, warm black socks, a T-shirt and long red jumper, and dragged them on. Passing Brock’s room, she caught sight of the rumpled bed and quickly dashed in to straighten the quilt and shiny blue bedspread. Then she scanned the room for any incriminating evidence. After passing inspection, which included under the bed, Sofie headed for the kitchen.

  At the threshold, she hesitated, not sure what to do as three sets of eyes met hers.

  ‘Sofe.’ Face lit with a smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes, Brock pushed his chair back and wasted no time in striding over to her. ‘Come, meet Mum and Dad.’ He slid an arm around her waist, pulled her in close and, hand reflexively on her hip, led her to the pink nineteen-sixties Formica kitchen table where his parents sat with their cups of tea.

  All very normal domestic bliss, but her heart hammered anyway.

  He turned to his parents. ‘Mum, Dad, this is my girl, Sofie Dove.’ He turned to Sofie. ‘Babe, my parents Doreen and Walter.’

  Brock gave her a priceless gift when he introduced her as his girl. Sofie’s sense of belonging felt so beautiful, it overwhelmed her. Staring at him, she was lost for words.

  Brock tickled her ribs.

  She sucked in a breath and said, ‘Hi, it’s lovely to meet you both.’

  Sofie extended her hand to Doreen, who smiled as she said, ‘No thank you, dear.’

  Walter stepped in, took her hand and gave it a squeeze. ‘Brock is very careful who he invites into his life. So, in my opinion you’re the cat’s pyjamas,’ he finished on a wide grin.

  ‘Oh!’ Doreen exclaimed. ‘She is handsome … pyjamas? Where’s the cat?’ Then she giggled. ‘Would you like … um … one of these?’ she said, head inclined to her cup. And without waiting, Doreen placed her hands on the table and pushed herself up to stand.

  ‘It’s okay, Mum, I’ve got it.’

  ‘What have you got, dear?’ Doreen’s pretty face turned to her son.

  ‘Sofie’s drink.’

  ‘Oh, yes. A drink.’ She sat down, put her fingers through the delicate porcelain handle of her Royal Doulton roses cup and sipped her tea. She carefully put the cup down and declared, ‘Um …’ and stopped, eyes suddenly vacant, then she looked around and smiled. ‘This is a lovely room.’

  ‘We had the devil of a time getting in, didn’t we, Dorey?’ Walter covered her hand with his, and Doreen gave him her undivided attention. ‘First I had the wrong key, and then I couldn’t find the lock.’

  ‘Yes …’ Doreen turned to look around and repeated, ‘This is a lovely room.’

  Ever so gently, Walter reassuringly patted his wife’s hand, murmuring, ‘Yes, I think so too, Dorey.’

  Sofie didn’t know what reactions Doreen had under normal circumstances, so trying to pre-empt the situation right now was impossible. Doreen was perhaps overwhelmed with seeing a new face and expectations she didn’t know what to do with, if she had them.

  Puzzled, Doreen turned to Walter; her expression changed, became agitated, worried. Eyes welling, she nervously whispered, ‘Walt?’

  Sofie cast a glance at the men, and though the room sparkled with hope, there was also dread that this wouldn’t last.

  Hands trembling, Walter calmly and quietly continued, ‘Yes, sweetheart, it’s Walt.’

  She gave him a tentative smile, turned her hand around to hold his, and softly said, ‘Thank you.’

  ‘I’m always happy to take you anywhere, my Dorey.’

  Her face lit up with a sweet smile. ‘Thank you, you’re my best friend.’

  Walter’s eyes welled up too. He nodded and asked, ‘Can I give you a kiss? On the cheek of course.’

  ‘Yes, that would be lovely.’ Doreen inclined her head and offered her cheek.

  Walter leaned in, puckered his lips and gently pressed them to her lovely face. Doreen’s smile deepened and two dimples appeared.

  Emotionally overwhelmed, Sofie felt a lump pressing in on her throat and tears stinging her eyes. As Brock neared to set her coffee on the table, she turned her head so he wouldn’t see the feelings playing havoc with her. It didn’t work. His arm went around her shoulder, and with a little pressure to the back of her head, he eased her face into his neck. Sofie’s silent tears flowed, wetting his skin.

  ‘I reckon Sofie’s a keeper, son,’ Walter said quietly.

  Nodding, Brock’s chin brushed the side of her head and, voice strained, he whispered, ‘Yeah.’

  Sofie pulled herself together, wiped her tears away, took a deep breath and sat at the kitchen table to get to know Brock’s beautiful family. Walter rubbed Doreen’s hand; her eyes had that glazed look again and Walter, with a sad look, accepted that their sweet moment had passed.

  ‘We were sorry about your uncle,’ Walter began. ‘Bob was an amazing man, always ready to help anyone. He did great charity work.’

  ‘Bob?’ Doreen join in the conversation. ‘He’s a pharmacist …’ She frowned trying to remember, then her face lit with excitement. ‘He helped us one night when Brockie had the croup … yes.’ Remembering a time long ago, Doreen’s faraway look went back to her past. ‘Lovely man … lovely man,’ she repeated.

  Walter stroked her hand and smiled, before he turned his attention back to Sofie.

  ‘Brock tells me you and your sister own Veronica’s, built it up in the shop your uncle had?’

  ‘Yes, we didn’t change too much inside. And Calum found two beautiful Edwardian marble fireplaces either side of the shop. They’d been boarded up and hidden behind plaster.’

  ‘That’s a very lucky find. Rumour around town is you and your sister are cooking up a storm. Tumble Creek needs a place like that.’

  ‘Please come and visit anytime. Veronica’s will treat you.’

  ‘Thank you, we’ll do that.’

  ‘Has anyone had breakfast?’ Sofie asked.

  ‘We have,’ Walter answered. ‘They start early in the village.’

  ‘Do you think you could fit some pancakes in? They’re my specialty,’ said Sofie.

  ‘There’s always room for pancakes.’

  ‘That’s what I like to hear.’ Sofie grinned.

  She went behi
nd the island bar and found everything she needed in the pantry and fridge. In a bowl she whisked eggs, milk and flour, and when she judged the pan was hot enough, added a nob of butter, poured in a measure of batter and began her batch of pancakes.

  Brock slung an arm around her hips, nuzzled her hair and took a long deep breath that made her toes curl. He ambled into the kitchen and she immediately missed his body, his gentle presence, next to her. He ducked into the pantry to collect jams, a lemon, brown sugar and maple syrup and placed everything on the table. He came back, slid one hand around her waist and with the other gathered plates and cutlery. Not looking up, Sofie smiled.

  The pancakes went down a treat. Walter said they’d be back next weekend for more.

  During her second cup of coffee, Doreen stood and without a word started walking out of the kitchen. Walter silently followed.

  ‘What’s happening?’ Sofie whispered.

  ‘Mum does this.’ Brock started to get up. ‘Shit—the bed!’

  Sofie put a restraining hand on his arm. ‘No, it’s okay, I straightened it before I came in.’

  He gave her a look that said she’d done something extraordinary.

  ‘What?’ she frowned, concerned she’d taken matters into her own hands when perhaps she shouldn’t have. ‘Did I do something wrong?’

  Eyes intense but warm, he shook his head. ‘Just shows me how much you care. How you think of others and their feelings. How you’d think you did something wrong tells me what shit parents you had.’ He curled a hand around her neck, leaned in and kissed her, hot, sweet and all too brief. He moved away from her mouth and explained quietly, ‘Mum wanders into their room, and as I said the other day, she doesn’t say anything, just sits on the bed, strokes the spread, smiles and looks around. Sometime she lets Dad sit with her and holds his hand. It’s as if Mum recognises she’s lost something, but isn’t sure what that is. One thing’s certain, she finds a little happiness and peace in their room.’